I hate being at work. For one thing, it stresses me out more than it helps me. I don’t feel that I’m making a difference at all. I feel like a slave to someone who doesn’t care whether I’m ok or not. Another thing is that, though I’m surrounded by people, I’m alone.
I don’t have my best friend to make me smile, to help me get through the hard times, to hold my hand, or kiss me just to see me smile. I’m surrounded by people who want everything handed to them. I miss him. I miss being with him. It kills me. I want to be with him all the time. And being here isn’t helping.
Work, as I’ve discussed before, is a trigger. It makes me anxious, depressed, and is physically painful. There is not a day (night, actually) that I don’t have a headache, dizzy spell, high blood pressure, strained back, sore shoulders, the list really could go on.
It makes me think of my husband, my best friend, who isn’t here. Sleeping peacefully in our bed, while I’m suffering in a 12 hour hell. I have to get out.
Where we live is a problem. There is NOTHING hiring here. We live in a college area. Full of college kids. One reason I want to move. But I have no experience doing anything other than what I’m doing now. Nothing pays as well either.
I honestly believe that my nerves can only be pressed and stretched so far before I really do snap. I want to go home. I give up! I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. I’m tired of not getting any help when I actually need it. I’m tired of nurses snapping at me for no reason. I’m tired of hurting and crying just because I have to go to work.
My hubby says that I’m not happy with my job because I’m not trying to be. Really? I am trying. I try everyday. I try to come in with a good attitude and within a few minutes, all that is shot to hell. I’m just done.